66

No. 1.

MAGAZINE

"And, you, men,

Be true, men,

Like those of Ninety-eight."-SONG.

ENTLEMEN, there is a country worth fighting for." The words are Oliver Cromwell's, and were spoken by him to some officers of his staff, as standing upon a spur of Sliev-na-Man Mountain, County Tipperary, he surveyed the Golden Vale, that rich belt of land, some twenty miles wide, which stretches east and west, across the North of Munster, from the picturesque Suir to the noble Shannon. Perhaps we may as well note in passing that the name Sliev-na-Man, means, we have been informed, "The Mountain of the Woman," so that, with the usual contrariety of matters, English and Irish-involving a condition of things which, for centuries, has sorely puzzled the most astute of our statesmen-man, it appears, means woman in the sister land. Strange fact, for that the opposite holds good, and that woman signifies man by no means obtains-for it is our faith that nowhere, the world over, is woman more true, to all that the word conveys to Saxon ears, than she is in Ireland.

The mountain called Sliev-na-Man, retaining its ancient Irish name, is not one of a range, but swelling from the surrounding plain to a very considerable height, and, shaped like a bow across the horizon, it forms a single elevation. Hence, visible afar from every hand, it constitutes a splendid feature in the landscape, and one that, in general aspect and colour-tone, is never quite the same, for troops of clouds, in the showery climate of the Emerald Isle,

Vol. II.

various in mass and form, ever fling upon its surface a magic play of light and shadow.

Across the eastern slope of this mountain an excellent road runs. It was the one formerly taken by "The Royal Mail" (that is before the age of railways began) on its journey from Dublin to Clonmel, and from thence on to Cork and other chief towns in the South of

Ireland.

It was from the box seat of this coach, after passing through a wild, barren, and deeply fissured region some miles in length, that, several years ago, I first caught sight of the magnificent stretch of country which, as we have seen, so forcibly evoked the admiration of "Old Noll," when he paused to gaze upon it on his way to the sack of Clonmel, and the subjugation, utter and complete, of the Stuart sympathising Munster.

Never had I looked upon a more richlywooded, well-watered, and fertile-seeming landscape. It smiled as a region specially Godfavoured and blessed. And, as the eye wandered over it, one could not but think of the view vouchsafed to Moses, from Pisgah's height, of "The Scripture Land;" that vision from Jericho-City of Palm Trees-to the "utmost sea" of "a land both good and large," and "flowing with milk and honey."

That the actual character of the soil does not belie its appearance will be evident from a short quotation from the celebrated economist, Arthur Young, written by him early in the last century. As Secretary of the Board of Agriculture, speaking of this district he says, "It is the richest soil I ever saw, and such as is applicable to every wish. It will fatten the largest bullock, and at the same time do

When "The Mail," having descended the southern slope of the eastern elongation of liev-na-Man, had proceeded some distance along the level road-not far from a small tributary stream of the Suir-a pleasant residence, embosomed in trees, and surrounded with well cultivated fields, caught my attention. It was such a place as one could wish to spend their days in, and desirous of knowing the name of its fortunate owner, I said to the coachman-" Larry, whose residence is that?" "Aye, aye," he replied, "you're not the first to ask me that same idintical question; it's wan, I believe, I have to answer a'most seven times a week; and indeed it's small wonder, Surr, that it makes your covetches thoughts to rise that's Carberry Grange, Surr, a place, the desire to own which, is a'most enough to mak th' teeth of even the dhriver of Her Majesty's Mail to wather. The gintilman to whom it belongs, and who lives in it, is wan they call Squire Rowan-wan o' the finest gintilmin about these parts. They tell me, Surr," he continued, "but I can't say whether it's thrue or no, that he has some connection, by descent, with a gintilman o' the same name, a Mr. Hamilton Rowan, who giv' the English Gover'ment a sight o' bother in the ould rebellion times o' ninety-eight. They had him wanst, fast and shure in hoult, too, in Green Street Prison, Dublin. But, begorrah, he was too cute for thim. Knowin' that iv he'd be brought to thrial, he'd shure as day be hanged, he bribed the gaoler with a big sum, for he was moighty rich-they say to let him go for a night to see his wife, sayin' he might, if he liked, go with him, to make shure he wouldn't run away. Whin at the house, the turnkey, not to intrude upon their privacy, was so soft as to remain in an outher passage. Whew! Me brave Mr. Rowan -if ye plaze-slipped through a back window, mounted a horse, and off like a shot, vanished into darkness. The Castle folk offered, I'm tould, Surr, £2,000, no less, for his arrest, but, iv course, it warn't a haporth o' use, no wan that knew wheer he war wud be mane enough to tell on him, and take the filthy lucre, so Mr. Rowan got off scot free to France, Surr, and from that wint to Amerikay.

"Afther sum time, through powerful friends —as I've hard—he got a pardon, howsumever, and cum back to the ould country, and, more nor that, got hould in some way again of Carberry Grange-where his ancesthors had lived from the

CHAPTER II.

"The rich ruleth the poor, and

The borrower is servant to the lender."-SOLOMON.

A CONSIDERABLE period after this piece of information from Larry-somewhere about the year 1864- -a young man might have been seen, one day in the late spring time, gazing with longing eyes upon the same pleasant Carberry Grange. His gaze, however, was not from the box seat of Her Majesty's Mail-indeed, that would have been a thing impossible, for at the date named box seats on mail coaches had become, even in Ireland, superseded articlesbut from the battlement of a little bridge, over which he leaned.

He was tall, of rather slight yet muscular make, and of gentlemanly bearing. His cheek was pale, his lips close set, and his features regular. His eyes, dark, keen, and lustrous, flashed from beneath a broad forehead and well marked eyebrows. His hair was black as the raven's wing, as were his flowing beard and well trimmed moustache. There were tokens about him of considerable intellectual power, joined to a resolute will-as there were, also, indications of a heart capable of either passionate love or intense hatred.

Long and immovably did the young man gaze upon the fair dwelling, with its clustering trees and pleasure grounds spread out before him; long, until his eyes, suffused with a mist of tears, (he was too proud to altogether weep), could no longer distinguish any object. Brushing away, however, the gathering moisture, and summoning up his sternest energies, as he gazed again-although leaves rustled in a neighbouring wood, and waters babbled in the brook which flowed under the arch beneath his feet-a person some distance off might have heard him vehemently, yet in suppressed tones, say, "Dear home of my early childhood-of a father's care and a mother's love-before Heaven I vow never to bate one jot of heart or hope, and never to refuse task or effort, until I win thee back, by means fair or-God help mefoul, as the rightful possession of my kindred."

The young man whom we have described, and whose passionate and fierce resolve we have just quoted, is Garrett Rowan, the hero of our narrative; and it will be needful to furnish the reader with a few details of his personal history, in order that he may understand the young man's present mood, and the grounds of his fixed and solemn determination.

The Encumbered Estates Act is a measure which has wrought abundant advantage to the general community in Ireland. It has released tens of thousands of acres from the nominal

ownership of bankrupt men-hampered with settlements and steeped to the lips in debt and poverty-men who, from their financial embarrassments, were utterly unable to fulfil the duties of their social position; their lands, year after year, lay unimproved, and their tenants were rack rented and harassed.

Through the operation of this Act no less than twenty and a half millions sterling worth of property were, in less than eight years, transferred to new proprietors—many of them prepared to invest capital in the soil, and either to work the farms themselves upon the most improved methods, or to rent them to tenants who would engage so to cultivate them.

The Act, however, in some of its phases bore with tremendous severity upon not a few of the oldest and most respectable families in the kingdom. And thus it was with the Rowans, of whose representative we are about to sketch the history.

Shortly after the famine year-"the black forty-eight"-through the facilities offered by this Act, a multitude of estates were forced, by the mortgagees, upon the land market. As a necessary consequence, especially in a time when money was scarce, the supply of landed property for sale far outstripped the demand, and estates became "a drug" in the market.

This was a result which just suited the aims of several greedy and unscrupulous men, indeed was one which they manœuvred for and contemplated. They managed thus to buy up a vast number of fine estates at far less than half their just value, with the intention of holding them for a little until times mended, and then to dispose of them, in suitable lots, at a very handsome, not to say extortionate, profit.

Garrett's father-in comfortable circumstances, but not a wealthy man-just before the famine year unfortunately mortgaged his estate for fifteen hundred pounds. It was done to compass the means of well educating his only son, Garrett, who, as manifesting more than common ability, he had resolved to have trained for the profession of the law--one that has been adorned with splendid names in the sister country. The fond father yearned to see, before he died, his son taking no mean place in the constellation of Irish forensic genius; and already, in imagination, he beheld him as the worthy peer of a Curran, a Fitzgibbon, or a Grattan.

Fifteen hundred pounds was comparatively a small sum, and in ordinary times would have created no difficulty. The mortgage, if unexpectedly foreclosed, could have been met by Mr. Rowan from other available sources; or to have obtained another loan would have been extremely easy.

But not ordinary, but extraordinary times came, as upon the whole land, also upon the Rowans. Crops for two years totally failed— the potato blight destroyed the means of support of millions. No rents could be collectedpoor rates were imposed greater in amount than the rents themselves, and besides, those who had store of money could not hold it and see their poor neighbours around them dying from starvation. Less than any one could Mr. Rowan-of sympathising heart and a generous impulse, he would have shared his last loaf with his suffering dependents. Hence, the worst days of the famine over found him with a balance, for no very great sum, however, at the wrong side of the account at his banker's.

It was at this hour, when resources were exhausted, and to borrow money was all but impossible, that Mr. Archie MacDuff, the mortgagee upon the Rowan estate, made arrangement to put in force his bond, and, at a moment's notice, demand a settlement.

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Mr. MacDuff was by birth a North Briton. Fifteen years before he came, a poor man, from his native land to set up a Scotch establishment, that is a general drapery warehouse, in one of the large towns of County Tipperary. Shrewd, thrifty, and industrious, he secured a large trade, and made money. There is a prejudice against Sandie," as an interloper, in the minds of the lower Irish; at all events there was at the time of which we write, but the Scotchman sold wares good and cheap, and Paddy is not the man to submit to be mulcted by fellow-countrymen from high-flown notions of patriotism. Archie MacDuff gave him and his Biddy a good shilling's worth for their shilling, and, as the result, Celtic money flowed in a stream, fast and full, into Archie MacDuff's coffers. In a dozen years, or so, he was able to retire, and (they say, though it may be a libel, that a Scotchman never returns to his own land) he purchased a small estate in the neighbourhood of Carberry Grange.

The Rowans were a little shy of making the acquaintance of Mr. MacDuff and his family. He was a parvenu, Mr. Rowan declared, and his wife, Mrs. Rowan, was of opinion that Mrs. MacDuff could make but small pretentions to be a lady. The Irish blood of the Rowans was proud, and the holders of Carberry Grange had been long accepted as a portion of the "rale owld Irish gintry." Garrett's father, however, often met Mr. MacDuff at the huntfor the Scotchman, of an ardent nature, took to sport; and more than this, one day Mr. Rowan was greatly assisted by his neighbour in an accident, which nearly cost him his life. So that from gratitude, as well as from a sympathy in their amusements, a measure of friendship sprang up between the two men, and